


They Want To Make Me Their Queen

by Netgirl_y2k



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/F, Gen, there is no chip/AI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/pseuds/Netgirl_y2k
Summary: Clarke smoothed the fall of the long coat over Lexa's shoulders and straightened her collar."Leksa kom Skaikru," she said with a soft, almost fond smile.Or,The one where all the Grounders are Sky People, and all the Sky People are Grounders.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for booasaur after a very generous donation to the fandomtrumpshate auction.

_i._

Lexa ran wildly, blinded by the branches whipping at her face; she held her arms out to shield herself and kept running.

She had gotten completely turned around; she _thought_ the dropship was behind her somewhere, but she couldn't be sure, and the Grounders were _everywhere_.

She plunged into the undergrowth, her foot caught on a root, and she went down hard enough to knock all the air from her body. Lexa groaned, struggled to her knees, and pushed the tangled mess of her hair back from her face. She turned her head and saw a body sprawled out on the ground.

Lincoln had been a medic on the Ark, and he was the closest thing the dropship volunteers had to a doctor, and now there was a bloody gash to the side of his head and his cheek was resting in a pool of sticky, red blood. 

Lincoln was a big guy, and for all that he was an avowed pacifist, Lexa found it difficult to believe that he could have been knocked out without a struggle.

God, she hoped he was only unconscious. She reached towards him, and that was when she heard the _crack_ of a twig breaking-- 

Her head snapped up. The Grounder was not especially tall, but he was broad and well muscled, he had curly dark hair and a face smeared with warpaint; all of which Lexa took in while desperately trying _not_ to notice the machete he held.

The Grounder's lip curled and he swung the machete in a downward arc; Lexa cried out and held her hands up in a useless attempt to defend herself. The blade slashed across her palm, sending dark blood spattering back onto the Grounder's face. 

Lexa screwed her eyes shut in anticipation of a second, killing blow; when one didn't come she looked up to see the Grounder staring at the black blood now staining his blade.

He looked down at Lexa with disbelief. " _Natblida?_ "

"I'm sorry, I don't--" 

Lexa's words were cut off by the Grounder swinging at her again, this time smashing her on the temple with the grip of his blade. Lexa pitched over next to Lincoln, and her vision went blurry-grey-black.

*

Lexa struggled back to consciousness to find herself propped up against a tree with Lincoln wiping the blood from her face.

He smiled gently. "Hey."

"Hey." Lexa's voice came out in a croak, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "We're alive?" 

"Yeah, we are." Lincoln looked over his shoulder and called out, "Bellamy, she's awake."

The Grounder who'd knocked Lexa out silently sized her up. Lincoln rose to his feet and Lexa scrambled up after him, although Lincoln took care to keep his body between her and the Grounders. 

"Lexa, this is Bellamy," said Lincoln. "Bellamy, Lexa. That's Miller and Fox." Lincoln nodded towards two more warpaint streaked Grounders who hadn't moved from their positions standing guard. "Er," he said, "they're not big talkers."

Bellamy gave Lexa a final once over, addressed Lincoln: "See that she lives until we reach Polis," and turned on heel.

Since reaching the ground the dropship volunteers had been decimated by the Grounders, but until now they hadn't taken any prisoners. 

Lexa tried to keep her voice steady when she asked, "Why do they want me alive?"

"I think--" Lincoln began. "I think it has to do with your blood."

Lexa felt suddenly sick. The Ark had a limited gene pool and people had been paranoid about genetic mutations; Anya had always made sure that Lexa had a healthy fear of anyone finding out about her weird blood. Not without reason - Chancellor Nia had made up some different, publicly acceptable reason for floating Ontari, but it had been because her blood was black.

Lexa fought the urge to curl up and try to hide; Lincoln had wiped the black blood from her face, and a quick glance down showed that her bloody hand had been bandaged with a strip torn from Lincoln's shirt.

"Don't tell the others," she said, hating how small her voice sounded.

Lincoln's eyes were soft and gentle. "There was a boy on the Ark, Aden. His blood was like yours and he had to have his appendix removed. Nyko and I did the surgery by ourselves in the middle of the night and nobody else found out."

"You protected him." 

Lexa had not known Lincoln well on the Ark; he'd worked in the med bay, a place Lexa had always avoided out of fear her secret would be discovered; when she'd been sick Anya had shared medicine with her, or there had been the black-market. But all of a sudden she wanted to repay his kindness somehow, and all she had to offer was another secret. 

"The Ark's running out of air," she said. "That's why they need to know if the Earth's safe; that's why they asked for volunteers to come down here."

"How do you know that?"

"I knew a girl who worked in the arboretum; she figured out that we weren't producing enough oxygen--" Lexa's heart clenched at the thought of Costia, who had been good and beautiful, and who had never known how Lexa felt about her. "They floated her to keep their secret. It's why I volunteered for the dropship; I needed to get away from the Ark."

" _Osir go_ ," Bellamy announced sharply, cutting off anything Lincoln might have said in response. "Let's go. _Hos op_." 

Grumbling the whole time Miller and Fox herded their prisoners towards the horses and reluctantly helped them mount up.

*

Polis was the Grounder capital, Miller had told them. 

Bellamy led the procession through the dwellings on the outskirts of the city where Grounder children pushed and shoved for a chance to peer at Lexa and Lincoln.

They passed through a market where customers haggled over food and scrap metal with stallholders, just like in the black marketplaces that popped up on the Ark.

In the woods surrounding the dropship the Grounders had been an invisible, merciless enemy; in their city they didn't seem all that different from the people on the Ark.

The Grounder trio hadn't been particularly talkative when it came to their captives, but being in their city seemed to have loosened their lips somewhat, and Lexa took advantage to ask a question that had been worrying at her for days now.

She looked towards the building that had increasingly dominated the skyline for the latter part of their journey, and now appeared to be located in the centre of Polis-- "What is _that?_ "

"It's the Commander's Tower," said Fox, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Normally the Flame of the Commander would be burning at the at the top and you'd be able to see it all across _Trikru_ lands, but--"

" _Fox._ " Miller's voice was a warning.

"You'll understand soon enough," she said, shrugging and letting her horse fall behind. 

Lexa caught Lincoln's eye as Bellamy led his prisoners ever closer to the Commander's Tower.

*

"I need to see Clarke," Bellamy told the Grounder girl who'd been lounging at the foot of the tower.

"She's busy," said the girl with an indifferent shrug.

" _Raven_ ," Bellamy growled. 

"Bellamy," Raven replied, sounding bored.

Bellamy grabbed Lexa's elbow and pulled her close. "Clarke needs to see this prisoner."

Raven looked Lexa up and down, and appeared profoundly unimpressed. She huffed audibly and said, " _Fine_ , but there won't be room for all of us in the pulley."

Raven turned away and limped heavily towards what Lexa recognised as a rudimentary elevator.

Bellamy's grin was bright and wide, cracking the warpaint around his eyes. He turned his laugh into a scoff and barked an order to Miller and Fox in the Grounder's own language; they each seized one of Lincoln's arms and started to drag him away.

"Wait!" cried Lexa.

"They're taking him to the cells. As for you--" Bellamy shoved Lexa towards a set of stairs "--you're going up."

*

Lexa was thrown to her knees at the top of the tower.

The second thing that caught Lexa's attention, once she understood that finally, eventually there were no more stairs to climb, was the throne that looked like it had been carved right out of the roots of some great tree. The first thing that caught her attention was the girl sitting on the steps before the throne; the grounder girl - this must be Clarke - had loose, blonde hair and was wearing some kind of leather corset that flared out around her hips when she stood.

"Are-- are you the Commander?" Lexa asked, getting to her feet.

The blonde's throaty chuckle held a hint of bitterness. "I'm the _Fleimkepa._ " She looked at Bellamy and said, "Okay, she's pretty, but why is she here?"

In answer Bellamy grabbed Lexa's wrist and squeezed until her fist unclenched; he sliced her palm open, again.

"Hey!" Lexa yelped, and Bellamy held his knife out for Clarke to examine.

" _Natblida_ ," Clarke breathed, staring hard at Lexa before flicking her eyes back to Bellamy. " _Bants osir!_ Leave us!"

*

Clarke invited Lexa to sit, called for food and drink, and ordered the guards to leave them.

Clarke couldn't be any older than Lexa, but she was obviously an important person on the ground. The Flamekeeper, she said, was a sort of advisor or prime minister to the Commander, and there wasn't a Commander at the moment because--

"--Only _Natblida_ can ascend and become Commander."

Lexa had to laugh at that; the idea that this terrible secret that she'd kept all her life somehow made her special down here.

Lexa put her hand up to her mouth to smother her laughter; a smirk played about Clarke's mouth and she said, "Well, how are your leaders chosen?"

"They're elected," said Lexa. "Everyone on the Ark gets a vote, and the best person gets the job." 

"And that works, does it?"

"Um." For most of Lexa's life the chancellorship had flip-flopped back and forth between Nia and Titus. "It's better than the alternative," she said defensively. 

"Were you a leader in the sky?" Clarke asked. "Or a warrior?"

Anya was a guard, and probably the most warrior-like person she knew, but as for Lexa herself-- she had volunteered in the arboretum, and not entirely because she'd had a giant crush on Costia. 

"I grew plants," she told Clarke.

Clarke quickly smoothed out her crestfallen expression, and Lexa didn't know why the Grounder's dismay bothered her so much. "Are there more like you among your people?"

"With blood like mine?" Lexa asked. 

Nia had floated Ontari, and even if Lincoln's story about Aden was true Lexa was not about to bring a child into this.

"No," she lied.

"Well," said Clarke, rallying. "You'll have to do."

"Wait-- do for what?"

"My people will only follow a Nightblood," said Clarke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And I don't have one... or, at least, I didn't." 

"Oh. But. Couldn't you--?"

"I'm as red-blooded as they come," said Clarke with a brittle smile. "The _Natblida_ were all killed in an Ice Nation attack, and the last Flamekeeper died trying to protect them. Without a Nightblood to unite the clans the Ice Nation will be able to pick us off one village at a time. Bellamy promised to bring me something I could use to fight them; I had my doubts, until he brought you to me."

It took a long moment for Lexa's brain to catch up. "I'm nobody important," she said. "I can't."

Clarke took Lexa's hand; her touch was gentle and comforting. "Your friend Lincoln is in a cell below this tower; your people are in the woods surrounded by my warriors." There was flint in her eyes and steel in her voice. "You can."

 

 _ii._

Lexa examined her reflection in the full-length mirror and scowled. 

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate her new clothing; her clothes from the Ark had been threadbare and ratty from years of wear, plus they'd been Anya's before they were Lexa's. But she didn't think she looked anything like the Grounder Commander that Clarke was trying to groom her into.

And Lexa wasn't the only one who thought so... 

Over the course of her weeks in Polis she had gotten to know Clarke's closest confidants; Raven made no secret of the fact that she found Lexa utterly unimpressive and thought Clarke's plan reeked of desperation, and while Bellamy seemed reluctant to voice his skepticism it was as evident as the nose on his face.

Through the slightly ajar door of the Commander's bedroom Lexa could hear them arguing about it, about her.

"You can't actually mean to present that--" Raven spluttered "-- _Sky Girl_ to the clan leaders."

"Unless you have another Nightblood hidden somewhere I don't know about, Raven--"

"Bellamy, tell her!"

Lexa had at first assumed that the Grounders were a society of warriors, but Bellamy seemed to spend less time warring than he did refereeing between the Grounders' unlikely leader and the crippled girl. 

His voice was pitched low and soothing when he said, "Raven's right, Clarke. The clan leaders will eat Lexa alive."

"Do you two _want_ to live under the yoke of _Azgeda?_ " asked Clarke. "Uniting the clans is the only way to stop the Ice Queen, and they'll only unite under a Nightblood."

"Clarke, I know it was your father's dream to unite the clans, and you want--"

Clarke snapped back in the Grounders' own language, and from there the argument devolved into a rapid stream of _Trigedasleng_ too quick for Lexa to even hope to understand.

Parts of the Grounders' language weren't too different from the Pig Latin that Anya had taught her when they'd been kids, but most of it was totally incomprehensible to Lexa.

Lexa heard muttered recriminations, the clang of a door that hadn't been quite slammed, and shortly thereafter Clarke stormed into the Commander's bedroom and threw herself down onto the bed with a huff; she sighed audibly, propped herself up on her elbows, and eyed Lexa. "You look--"

"Commanding?" Lexa suggested, with what even she would admit was unrealistic optimism. 

Clarke shrugged one shoulder. "Getting there."

Lexa had stopped pointing out that this was surely going to end in disaster. And in all honestly... the bedroom, the clothes, Clarke's frank, appraising stare, Lexa _didn't_ hate that stuff. 

"Hold still," Clarke told her, rising from the bed. "There's something not quite--" 

She crossed the room in two steps and was standing just behind Lexa, gathering Lexa's hair in her hands. Lexa's hair wasn't _quite_ as frizzy as it had been when she'd been living in the dropship, but there was no such thing as Grounder shampoo, so it was still out of control. 

Clarke braided Lexa's hair with clever, brisk fingers, and as her hair was pulled back from her face Lexa tried for an imperious, commanding expression; it came out aloof and slightly strained.

She scowled again; that was more like it.

"I heard..." she began, trailing off. But if the Grounders had cared about her eavesdropping they would not have been arguing outside her bedroom door, and not in English. "I heard Raven say something about your father?"

Clarke's fingers stilled in Lexa's hair; she resumed braiding tugging fiercely at the tangles. "He was _Fleimkepa_ before me. He was with the novitiates - they were children, mostly - when the warriors from the Ice Nation ambushed them."

"He was trying to protect them," Lexa remembered.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," said Lexa, and meant it. "What about your mom?"

"My mother's a healer and leader in TonDC." There was a smile in Clarke's voice. "And what about your parents, are they still in the sky?"

"No," said Lexa. "They died when I was very young." She'd been little more than a baby, and with food and medicine rationed, the not infrequent floatations, and various population control measures, she'd been far from the only orphan on the Ark. "I always had Anya, though."

"Anya?"

"She--" Lexa struggled to describe Anya in Grounder terms. "Anya is a great warrior."

Clarke finished braiding Lexa's hair and took down the long coat, all leather and fur and buckles, which had been hanging from the wardrobe waiting for Lexa. 

She held it up for Lexa to slide her arms into. The coat fell to Lexa's ankles; Clarke stepped around to smooth the fall of the coat over Lexa's shoulders and straighten her collar.

" _Leksa kom Skaikru_ ," Clarke said with a soft, almost fond smile.

"Clarke!" the cry precluded a Grounder boy with tattoos covering half his face barrelling into the room. "You should come--"

"I said I wasn't to be interrupted, Jasper."

"There's another Sky Person downstairs," said Jasper, flapping his hands.

*

Lexa reached the foot of the tower a step or three behind Clarke. 

She'd expected the Sky Person to be Lincoln returning. He and Miller had been wrangling the truce between the dropship volunteers and the surrounding Grounders with mixed results. 

Instead she found Raven closely examining a prosthetic arm, while totally ignoring the girl it was attached to.

Emori crossed her arms, inspiring a low whistle from Raven at how naturally the prosthesis moved. She raked her eyes up Lexa, from where her coat swished around her ankles to her braided hair. 

"So, it's true, then?" she said. "They really are trying to make you queen of the Grounders."

There had always been rumours about Emori: that she hadn't lost her arm in a childhood accident at all, that her prosthesis was a replacement for the sort of birth defect that made people on the Ark extremely nervous.

"I--"

Emori pushed past Raven and Clarke, ignoring them completely; Clarke looked put out, she wasn't used to being ignored.

"We need to talk," she said to Lexa. "Now." 

*

Emori raised an eyebrow at the throne. "You know, I was kidding about that queen thing..." 

Clarke nodded and the two Grounder guards turned smartly and left the room; Raven left more slowly, and not just because of her limp. Emori stared baldly at Clarke, Clarke crossed her arms, and Emori shrugged. "You're the power behind the throne, huh?" 

"What did we need to talk about?" Lexa asked, wanting to get to the matter at hand, and _off_ the subject of queens and thrones.

"Echo finally managed to get the radios working," said Emori producing a handheld radio from inside her jacket and shoving it towards Lexa. "We've made contact with the Ark." 

The radio jumped in Lexa's hand with a burst of static. Lexa hesitantly brought it up to her mouth and said "...Hello?"

"Lexa!" The voice coming out of the radio was yelling, loudly.

"Anya!"

The last time Lexa and Anya had seen each other they'd had a huge, bitter argument. Anya had been _so mad_ at Lexa for volunteering for the dropship, had been convinced that Lexa was going to get herself killed; and Lexa had snapped that Anya was only upset because for the first time in her life Lexa wasn't doing what Anya wanted.

Right now the only reason Lexa didn't burst into tears at the sound of Anya's voice was that she wasn't sure who she wanted to cry in front of less, Clarke or Emori.

"Anya, listen!" she shouted into the radio. "We can survive on the ground, and there are people here--"

"We know--" There was another burst of static, and Lexa missed everything she said, until: "We're bringing the Ark down."

"What? When!"

"Well--" There was what sounded like an explosion, and Anya's voice came through broken and crackly. "Now, basically."

*

The Ark, or part of it, had hit the ground hard and fast. Lexa stood up in her stirrups, causing her horse to dance nervously under her, and squinted trying to detect movement near the smoking crater.

"Do you think anyone made it?" asked Emori, she'd been alternating between trying to raise the Ark and roundly cursing Echo for doing a hatchet job of fixing the radio.

Looking at the crash site, Lexa didn't think it was Echo's fault that nobody was picking up. 

"Lexa..." Clarke began, in a tone of voice that said she didn't believe they were going to find any survivors.

"Yeah," said Lexa.

Then there was a rustle in the undergrowth, the smack of a branch against flesh, and someone swore - in English, not _Trigedasleng_. 

All the Grounders - including Clarke who wore a vicious looking knife strapped to her thigh - drew weapons. The Ark guard stepped out onto the ridge, sun at her back and gun at the ready.

"Stop!" Lexa snapped, and everyone froze, which was useful if not entirely expected.

The guard's black fatigues were ripped, her blonde hair was darkened with ash, and her features were smudged with soot. Lexa slid down the side of her horse, much to the animal's relief, and threw herself into Anya's arms.

Anya hugged Lexa tight enough that she could have sworn her ribs creaked, and then shoved her out to arm's length, demanding, "What the _hell_ has been happening down here?"

"Um..."

Emori stepped right into Lexa's silence. "The Grounders killed a whole bunch of us, but they've decided to make Lexa their queen, so everything's hunky-dory."

Anya blinked, cocked her head, and punched Lexa hard on the shoulder. 

"Hey!" said Lexa. 

Clarke slipped silently down from her horse and stepped close to Lexa; Anya's gaze flicked to the Grounder girl, and she opened her mouth to say something at the same time as her grip tightened on her gun. 

"Did the Chancellor make it?" Lexa interrupted quickly. "I think we need to talk to her."

*

The spine of the Ark had come through the crash landing pretty well, and they'd been escorted to a meeting room that was more or less intact.

Chancellor Indra took a seat at one end of a table and Anya and Gustas took up standing positions behind her. 

Nia had been Chancellor when the dropship had left the Ark, and all Lexa really knew about Indra was that Anya had a lot of respect for her. She tried to silently communicate to Clarke that this change from what she'd told the Grounder girl to expect was good, probably.

Bellamy took up a position at Clarke's shoulder and Lexa looked between the two groups, eventually taking a seat close to Clarke and trying to ignore Anya's glare boring into her skull.

"If you had landed in _Azgeda_ territory," Clarke began, "the Ice Queen, Diana--"

"Would not be making me this generous offer?" Indra suggested with an arched eyebrow.

"--Would have had your people murdered on sight," Clarke finished.

"And what does an alliance with you get me?" Indra asked. "In addition to not being murdered, that is."

"We know how to survive on the ground," said Clarke, "you don't; we have an army, you don't."

"We have guns," said Gustas, his voice a growl, "you don't."

Lexa had stayed quiet, sweating into her heavy Grounder coat, but now she squared her shoulders, raised her chin and said, "Listen. Everybody just calm down, and listen--"

*

Lexa leaned against the metal hallway wall, and Anya slouched against the opposite wall.

Lexa looked up from her thorough examination of the floor. "Thanks for backing me up in there."

Anya shrugged half-heartedly. "I was just stating the obvious."

The obvious being that the Grounders had more bodies than the Ark had bullets; it hadn't exactly been subtle, but it had got Clarke and Indra talking.

"Lex, this you being president of the Grounders thing--" Anya began. "How do you know that they aren't going to declare you supreme leader, and then, I don't know, sacrifice you to some pagan, Grounder God?"

Lexa wasn't sure when she'd stopped worrying about that herself. "I believe in Clarke."

"Oh, you _believe--_ " 

Anya's scathing response was cut off by Clarke's arrival.

"Commander," Clarke said respectfully, and Lexa shot her a questioning look. Lexa wasn't the Commander yet, not until after the conclave. She wasn't sure if Clarke was trying to prove some kind of point to Anya, or just wanted to present the whole 'Commander' thing to the Sky People as fait accompli.

Anya straightened up and glared at the shorter blonde.

"Anya," said Lexa hurriedly, "this is _Klark kom Trikru_ , she's been helping me, er, adjust to life on the ground." Adjust, that was one word for it. "Clarke, this is Anya of the Sky People." Clarke still looked mildly belligerent so Lexa added, "Anya's an important warrior among my people."

Anya scoffed, gripped Lexa's shoulder and squeezed. "I'm pretty sure our quarters are still in one piece around here someplace," she said, "if you want to talk later."

Clarke watched Anya until she disappeared around a corner and then she leaned against the wall next to Lexa, close enough that their shoulders touched.

"Anya--" Clarke began without looking at Lexa. "Is she yours?"

"My what?" Lexa asked innocently. " _Oh._ You mean...? _No._ "

Lexa didn't have any biological family, but for as long as she could remember Anya had been there; an occasionally infuriating mix of older sister, best friend, and parent. 

"She's not my girlfriend; Anya's... Anya."

Clarke nodded as though she understood. "Good," she said.

 

_iii._

Indra and Clarke may have agreed to a truce, but that didn't mean everything was all sunshine and roses between the Sky People and the Grounders.

Plenty of the dropship survivors had found it hard to let go of the fear and loathing that several weeks of being picked off by Grounder warriors one at a time had left them with. 

A few of them had beaten the crap out of a _Trikru_ guy called Murphy for taking up with Emori; this had ended with Emori packing up and moving to Polis amid angry whispers of _grounder pounder_ , and Indra keeping the peace by having Murphy's assailants whipped with shock-sticks.

The whipping had been the final straw for ex-chancellor Titus, who had taken a squadron of guards loyal to him, and tried to evict a village full of Grounders from their lands at gunpoint. Anya had taken a group of guards loyal to Indra to stop him, and the armed standoff had lasted for more than a day.

"Thanks, Tris," said Lexa, dismissing the young girl Anya had dispatched to tell her that the standoff was over and Titus had been locked up back at the crash site.

Lexa sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I can't do this," she said. "I don't care what sort of magic blood you think I have, I just can't."

"It's not the blood," Clarke responded, "it's the person. The best Commanders inspired loyalty; if it wasn't for her loyalty to you then Anya might have been out there terrorizing those villagers with Titus instead of stopping him."

"Great," Lexa grumbled, hating how ungrateful she sounded. "I have Anya."

"You have me too," said Clarke.

*

A crowd had formed around a crudely marked circle near the centre of Polis; a tall pole had been erected in the middle of the empty space.

"What's going on?" Lexa asked Raven.

"Clarke's executing a traitor," said Raven, her voice strained. 

There was a commotion in the audience, and from the booing and jeering Lexa gathered that the condemned man was being brought out.

"I can't watch," said Raven, turning and hobbling away as quickly as her limp would allow. 

The crowd parted and there was Clarke, hair cleverly braided and warpaint smeared around her eyes, and beaten and suspended between two guards was... _Bellamy?_

Bellamy was lashed to the pole, he said nothing and didn't struggle; Clarke produced a vicious looking knife.

" _Belomi kom Trikru_ ," she announced in a heavy, carrying voice. "You are guilty of hiding a Reaper in Polis, this treason carries the penalty of death."

The crowd parted again... well, it didn't so much part as trip over itself in its determined surge to get away from the girl who was now being dragged into the circle. 

While it looked like Bellamy's fight was done, the girl was thrashing and kicking like mad, and it was taking three guards to hold her struggling form off the ground as she howled like a wild animal.

She looked... wrong. Even beyond the flailing and baying, her skin was grey and flaking, and her eyes were a wild, animalistic red. She wrenched herself violently around - Lexa imagined she could hear the _pop_ of the girl's joints dislocating - and sank her teeth into the cheek of the nearest guard. 

The Grounder dropped the girl with a curse in _Trigedasleng_ , punched her in the face, and she fell to the ground with a hunk of his flesh still between her teeth.

" _Pleni!_ " said Clarke. "Enough. Kill her."

The girl's guards got her under something akin to control, forced her to her knees, and one of them produced an axe.

Lexa had all but forgotten about Bellamy until he started screaming. "O! _O!_ Octavia! Clarke, you can't! She's my sister! _Beja,_ please..."

"Stop!" Lexa shouted; she wasn't sure what propelled her forward, but she stepped into the circle with both hands raised in a command to desist. 

Bellamy stopped shouting for his sister, and through the rush of blood in Lexa's ears even the Reaper girl's struggles sounded muted.

Clarke stared at Lexa with wide, shocked eyes. 

Lexa liked Clarke, probably liked her more than she ought to under the circumstances, but ever since Bellamy had knocked her on the head all those months ago she had allowed herself to be buffeted along by Clarke's plans.

From some still, quiet place inside her mind Lexa was thrilled with Clarke's surprise at her taking command. 

_Your move, Clarke,_ she thought, _you want all these people to believe I'm going to be the Commander..._

"We need to talk, Clarke," she said coldly. "Alone." 

Clarke nodded once, sharply, and stalked out of the circle.

"Don't hurt them," Lexa told the executioners. The muscles in Bellamy's sister's neck popped as she snapped her teeth at the guards holding her down. "Either of them."

*

"What the hell, Clarke?" Lexa held her hands stiffly behind her back; it was the only way she could stop herself from throwing her arms into the air in sheer exasperation. "Bellamy's your friend. He's loyal; he's the one that brought me to you." Bellamy had done a poor job of hiding the fact that he thought Lexa was ridiculous, but he believed in Clarke. "What could he possibly have done to deserve to die?"

"He lied to me," said Clarke; her hair was loose and messy from where she'd been pushing her hands through it, and the skin around her eyes was smudged where she'd been careless in scrubbing away her warpaint. "He was supposed to kill Octavia, he said he had. He's had her tied up in their house for months. She's a Reaper now; if she'd gotten loose it would have been carnage." 

"She's his sister," said Lexa. "I don't have any siblings, not really; no one from the Ark does... But if the Chancellor told me to kill Anya, I couldn't do it, no matter how high the stakes were."

"What if she wasn't Anya anymore?" Clarke asked. "What if she was a diseased monster wearing your friend's skin?"

"Is that what it is, a disease?" asked Lexa. "Maybe there's a cure--?"

Clarke shook her head stubbornly. "There's no cure. After we killed the Mountain Men we thought the Reapers might return to themselves, but the people they used to be are gone. The only thing you can do for a Reaper is put it out of its misery."

"The medicine back at the Ark--" Lexa began.

Clarke got that look on her face that Lexa was becoming familiar with; it meant that as far as Clarke was concerned the conversation was over.

"The Sky People respect our strength and numbers; there's a reason I haven't told them about the deranged cannibals running around my woods."

Lexa rolled her eyes. "Believe me, we're going to come back to that subject." Clarke snorted, and Lexa said, "I'm not going to be a puppet, Clarke."

Clarke frowned. "What?"

"I know I'm not really one of you, and I know I'm going to need more hand holding than any of the Commanders before, but if you won't let me help you when I know I can then _why are we even doing this?_ "

"Lexa," Clarke said softly.

"I'll talk to Lincoln," Lexa said. "I trust him, he won't tell anyone else if I ask him not to."

*

Octavia sat on the edge of a cot in the main room of Bellamy's small house; Lexa tried not to notice the ropes showing that Bellamy had kept his sister tied up.

Octavia swilled water around her mouth and spat for the tenth time in as many minutes. Lexa remembered Octavia tearing the flesh from her guard's face with her teeth, and her stomach roiled in sympathetic nausea.

Lincoln hovered around Octavia, looking more like a mother hen than a guy of his size and build really should. He examined her pupils and checked her pulse again; there had been a few minutes where it hadn't looked like he was going to be able to revive her.

Lexa ducked out of the house, Clarke half a step behind her.

"Lexa, I--" 

Whatever Clarke had been about to say was interrupted when Bellamy followed them outside. "You saved my sister," he told Lexa.

"Oh, no," said Lexa. "It was Lincoln really, I didn't--" Clarke took hold of Lexa's wrist and squeezed for her to be quiet.

Bellamy inclined his head in a bow, looked up at Lexa and said, " _Heda._ "

 

_iv._

Octavia threw her fist towards Lexa's face, and Lexa threw herself backwards so that Octavia's blow clipped her jaw rather than smashing her nose.

Octavia bared her teeth. Her next swing was towards Lexa's kidneys, but Lexa stepped close and managed to catch her wrist in the lock that she'd been practicing over and over again until she could do it right.

They both froze, teeth bared at each other's throats - then Octavia drove her foot into the side of Lexa's knee, knocking her to the ground.

Octavia drew her fist back for another strike, and Lexa threw her hands up in surrender. "Hey!" she cried. "Remember that time I stopped Clarke from beheading you?"

"I do," said Octavia with a feral grin. "That's why you've still got all your teeth." 

Octavia dropped her fist, gripped Lexa's forearm, and pulled her to feet.

"Thanks," said Lexa, flexing her leg at the knee to make sure she still could.

"Looking on the bright side," said Octavia, "you're the only Nightblood around, so at least you won't have to fight anyone to the death at your Conclave."

"What--?" 

"What," Octavia replied innocently, and before Lexa could push for details Clarke turned up.

"How did the lesson go?" she asked.

"Um," said Lexa.

"Terribly," said Octavia, and then - remembering that Lexa _had_ rescued her from beheading - she added, "look, it's not all bad; she's quick on her feet and her reflexes are good, but she's got no killer instinct."

"I don't want to kill anyone," said Lexa, and the two Grounders ignored her entirely.

" _Maybe_ ," drawled Octavia halfheartedly, "if she'd started training as a child."

"She doesn't need to be a great warrior, O," said Clarke. "I just need the clan leaders to look at her and not smell blood in the water." 

*

Lexa sat on the edge of the fur-covered bed in the Commander's bedroom; she was hyperaware of the fact that she wasn't wearing pants, and that Clarke was kneeling before her.

Clarke was massaging a salve into her knee to stop it bruising too badly after Octavia's lesson. 

"You're, um--" Lexa began awkwardly. "You're good at that."

"My mother is healer before she's a leader, and she always wanted me to follow in her footsteps."

"Is that what you want?" Lexa asked. "I mean, is that what you'd be doing if you weren't stuck in Polis trying to make me Commander?"

"Maybe," said Clarke. She hesitated before saying, "If I could do anything in the world, I'd be an artist."

"I'd love to see your work someday," said Lexa, cringing as she realised she'd all but asked to see Clarke's etchings. 

"You've already seen some of it," said Clarke. "I did Raven's tattoos."

Lexa would have had to be blind not to notice the flock of tattooed birds that burst from beneath Raven's collarbone, spiraled up one side of her neck, and disappeared into her hairline behind her ear.

Clarke ran her salve-covered hands down Lexa's calf, and told her she was all done. She rose and busied herself rinsing her hands in a basin of water while Lexa pulled her pants back on.

Fully dressed and once again able to string two coherent thoughts together, Lexa asked, "Hey, what did Octavia mean about people fighting to the death at the Conclave?"

"The _Natblida_ were always trained together from childhood, when the old Commander died a Conclave was called, and the last surviving Nightblood ascended."

"That's barbaric!"

"My father thought so too," said Clarke. "But don't worry, all that has to happen in your case is for the clan leaders to consent to your ascension.

 _Oh_ , thought Lexa, _is that all._

*

Lexa jumped and just managed to clear the staff that had been swung at her knees--

Lexa had been happy to have Anya in Polis, but while Octavia had reluctantly conceded that Lexa was _a little_ better at spear fighting than she was at hand-to-hand combat Anya had taken to it like an overly enthusiastic duck to water. 

\--Anya reversed and swung at Lexa's skull, and Lexa nearly laughed at Anya's surprised look when Lexa got her own staff up in time to block.

"So, what's going on with you and Clarke?" 

"What--?" said Lexa. "Nothing. What?" and Anya used Lexa's moment of stuttering confusion to sweep her legs out from under her and dump her on her backside.

Lexa glared up at her. "Not fair."

Instead of helping her up, Anya dropped down next to her, pushed her sweaty hair from her face, and said, "Seriously, though. This isn't going to be like the thing with Costia again, is it?"

Lexa scratched at the dirt with a fingernail. "Nothing happened with Costia," she admitted. 

"I know," said Anya. "You stared at her tragically for months, and then she died. I'm just saying, if this Ice Queen really is as dangerous as Clarke says, then you should probably tell her how you feel before one of you bites the dust."

"You know, Anya," said Lexa, "if you ever wonder why I never talk to you about my feelings, this is why." 

Anya rolled her eyes; Lexa had always assumed that Anya's tone deafness about Lexa and girls was deliberate, as feelings weren't exactly Anya's special subject. 

Anya changed the subject. "Those guards Indra sent to the Ice Nation's border, we still haven't heard from them."

Clarke strolled into the sparring yard where Lexa and Anya were still sitting in the dirt. "Lexa," Clarke said with a smile, and, "Hey, Anya."

"Hey."

The hostility between Clarke and Anya had simmered down to a point where Lexa no longer felt like a bone pulled between the two of them; she followed Anya up to her feet.

"Did Raven come back with you?" Clarke asked.

Anya shook her head. "Ever since Nyko made her that brace for her leg she's been tinkering around the Ark with Echo. I think by now she probably understands more about our tech than I do." 

"Well, you never were that bright," Lexa teased, getting Anya's elbow in the ribs for her trouble. 

Anya tipped her head meaningfully towards Clarke, raised her eyebrow, and said, "I'm going to say hi to Lincoln and Emori while I'm in town."

"I saw you and Anya sparring," said Clarke. "She's good; you both are. I'm surprised she didn't take you as her second years ago."

Lexa shrugged. "She was too worried about hurting me, I guess."

"You can't learn without getting hurt," Clarke pointed out.

That much was true; Octavia sometimes seemed to be taking great pleasure in teaching Lexa how true that was. Lexa rolled her aching shoulders.

"I think she was scared of what might happen if anyone saw me bleed," Lexa explained. "Back on the Ark, because of the radiation in space, people were really afraid of anyone different. The last Chancellor had people killed for having blood like mine."

"What--?" Clarke clutched Lexa's arm. "That's barbaric. Nightbloods are special."

Lexa didn't believe that; but she had spent her life on the Ark in fear of her secret being discovered, and feeling like she couldn't risk getting close to anyone other than Anya, and now Clarke thought that she was special... or at least, she thought Lexa's blood was special. 

*

"I've been thinking..." said Clarke, sounding less than certain for the first time since Lexa had met her.

"Yes?" Lexa said.

"I was thinking about what you said, about not feeling like one of us - " Clarke was speaking quickly, and she couldn't quite meet Lexa's eyes " - and I thought maybe you might like a tattoo? I could do it; I've thought of the perfect design."

 _What's the design?_ Lexa meant to ask, or maybe, _Will it hurt?_

"I'd love that," she said instead.

"Great." Clarke grinned, wide and happy. "Take your shirt off."

"Um," Lexa blushed furiously, but followed Clarke's directions until she was lying topless on her bed, head pillowed on her arms, as Clarke settled herself across the tops of Lexa's thighs.

Clarke swept Lexa's hair to one side and ran her fingers down her spine; Lexa turned her full-body shiver into a nervous laugh.

Clarke laid her palm between Lexa's shoulder blades to still her. Lexa turned her head to the side and watched in the mirror as Clarke produced a pot of ink and small brush. "I'm just going to paint it on this time, that way you can tell me if you hate the design, okay?"

The stroke of the brush against the bare skin of Lexa's back tickled, but she distracted herself by watching Clarke's little frown of concentration and the way she chewed her bottom lip.

When she was finished Clarke clambered off leaving Lexa with a feeling of loss, and pins and needles in her legs.

Lexa sat up with her arms crossed over her breasts; Clarke found another mirror and angled it so Lexa could get a good look at the design inked on her back: an abstract pattern of lines and circles running from the nape of her neck down to the small of her back.

"It's lovely," said Lexa honestly. "Does it represent anything?"

"You," said Clarke softly. "It's you falling from the sky."

*

Lexa managed to knock Octavia off-balance, hook her foot around the Grounder girl's ankle, and push her down into the dirt of the sparring yard.

"I let you do that."

Lexa laughed, bright and happy; she thought that she could get to like this fighting thing after all. She wondered if Clarke was watching from somewhere.

"Yeah, well," said Octavia, hopping easily to her feet. "You still look like a confused octopus whenever you hold a sword."

Lexa rolled her eyes because she'd won, and Octavia looked around at the small crowd who'd been watching the soon-to-be Commander's lesson. 

"Do you think _he_ wants to learn to wrestle?" 

Lexa followed Octavia's look. "Lincoln's a pacifist," she said, and elaborated off Octavia's baffled look. "He doesn't believe in fighting."

Octavia's smile was borderline indecent. "It wouldn't have to be that kind of wrestling."

Lexa and Octavia's weird moment of almost bonding was interrupted by a small figure darting onto the sparring yard and crying out for Lexa.

It was Tris, the kid Anya used as a messenger, and Lexa looked across the yard to see Raven, moving much easier now that her leg was supported by the brace, ducking into the Commander's Tower.

Tris doubled over, her hands braced on her knees. "Anya sent me to tell you--" Tris gulped air "--those guards Chancellor Indra sent to the Ice Nation..."

"They've returned?" Lexa asked.

Tears welled in Tris' eyes. "Their heads did."

Octavia inhaled sharply. " _Jus drein jus daun._ "

Lexa's _Trigedasleng_ had come along leaps and bounds, and she mentally translated: _blood must have blood._

 

_v._

"Sit," Clarke ordered, backing Lexa up until the backs of her thighs hit the throne and she sat. "Close your eyes."

Lexa did, and she could hear Clarke unscrewing the lid from the jar of warpaint she'd been holding; she touched Lexa's jaw encouraging her to tilt her face up. Clarke's thumbs swept across Lexa's eyelids, smearing warpaint.

Lexa exhaled, and Clarke said, "You know how this is going to work, right?" Lexa made a soft noise of assent. "The clan leaders will be presented to you--"

"Jaha, Pike, Callie, Kane, Abby," Lexa recited their names. "Indra will be there, too. Ever since the Ice Nation killed those guards--"

The massacre had convinced the Chancellor that the alliance with Clarke's people was worth striving for, and had moved Anya to teach Lexa how to fire a gun and insist she carry one.

"Hmm," Clarke hummed, trying not to sound pleased. She dragged her thumbs down, leaving streaks of warpaint over Lexa's cheekbones. "The Ice Queen won't be there, happily. You're the only Nightblood, so it won't be a traditional Conclave, and if any of the clan leaders challenge you to single combat--"

"Is that likely?"

Clarke's voice held a shrug. "It's the sort of thing Pike might do, maybe, but you're allowed to name a champion to fight for you, so if he does just name Bellamy or Octavia."

"Okay," Lexa agreed. She had a notion that as Commander she ought to be able to fight her own battles, but the laughter in her mind at the very idea sounded a little bit like Octavia and a whole lot like Anya. She wouldn't be any good to Clarke, or anyone else, if she got herself killed.

Clarke stepped back, Lexa's eyes fluttered open, and Clarke grinned. "You're perfect."

"Oh, I'm not sure--" Lexa mustered a weak grin and stood, letting her long coat swish around her ankles. 

"I have something for you," said Clarke. The blonde's movements were usually so sure, but she fumbled while drawing the vicious looking knife she wore strapped to her thigh, and she pressed the handle into Lexa's hand. "The clan leaders will need to see your blood."

"Oh." Lexa's palm was warm and a bit sweaty, and she worried that she might drop the knife. But she couldn't bring herself to pull her hand from Clarke's. She forced a dry, nervous chuckle. "I suppose nothing says good luck like a bit of self-harm."

"You don't need luck," said Clarke, "you have me. But I did want to thank you." 

Clarke pressed closer; her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, and before she realised it Lexa had mirrored her. 

" _Mochof_ ," Clarke breathed, closing the distance and kissing Lexa.

The kiss was all slow gathering heat, Lexa caught Clarke's bottom lip between her own, and when Clarke pulled back Lexa chased the taste. Clarke tilted her head and smiled. "I've smudged your warpaint," she said, moving to close the distance between them again. 

"Wait--" Lexa pressed her palm to Clarke's sternum. The clan leaders were coming today; Lexa had cared for Costia and Nia had floated her. "I'm just not ready." 

Clarke nodded and took a step back; Lexa missed her already. "Yeah, okay."

*

Lexa lounged on the throne, toying with Clarke's knife. She hoped her posture looked more regal and commanding, and less like someone who was trying to avoid the protruding bits of the throne jabbing into her fresh-enough-to-hurt tattoo.

She watched Clarke throw her arms around the neck of a young, dark skinned guy, who picked her up and swung her around in a circle. "You're lucky Wells is the chief of _Floukru_ these days," Octavia informed her. "Jaha the elder would have _hated_ you."

Even if Octavia hadn't been standing by Lexa's shoulder putting names to the clan leader's faces she would probably have been able to identify Pike by the naked hostility he was staring at her with.

Indra was there, stony-faced, but that was the expression the Chancellor always wore, and next to her Anya seemed to be finding this whole thing vaguely hilarious.

Wells said something that made Clarke laugh, and Kane and Abby - of _Delphikru_ and _Trikru_ respectively, whispered Octavia - talked softly together, looking sceptical but willing to be convinced.

" _Shof op_ ," Clarke called for quiet, and gestured for Lexa to stand. " _Leksa_."

Lexa stood, held Clarke's knife up, wrapped the blade in her fist and gripped tight until black blood dripped to the floor.

Abby's eyes widened in surprise, Kane cursed softly in _Trigedasleng_ , and Clarke nudged Wells and grinned.

It really seemed to be working - which made Lexa feel better about the fact that her hand _really_ hurt - until Pike snarled, " _Spicha!_ It's a trick!" He started to draw his axe. "I'll prove this Sky Girl bleeds as red as any of them." 

Pike's step forward was met by Octavia drawing her sword, Anya shoving towards him, and Clarke, incandescent with rage, ordering the guards to remove Pike. 

Pike shook the guards off, and turned on heel; the last thing the leader of _Podakru_ said before leaving the throne room was: "That imposter will be _Heda_ over my dead body."

*

Lexa reclined in the bathtub. Baths had been one of the first things she'd fallen in love with on the ground; on the Ark there had only been showers.

She'd had to smile when Clarke told her that purification was part of the process of becoming Commander, she guessed it was Clarke's way of telling her to take a bath, relax, and try not to worry too much about Pike's threat, or Bellamy's suggestion that he might be in league with the Ice Queen.

The water was cooling so Lexa sighed, clambered out of the tub, dried herself and dressed in the nightgown and robe that had been laid out for her.

Her bed looked tempting, but she didn't think she'd be able to sleep a wink until she talked to Clarke. She almost left the gun Anya had given her behind, but she'd _promised_ to keep it with her, so she slipped the weapon into the pocket of her robe. She opened the door to her bedroom, and wasn't that surprised to find Bellamy and Octavia outside.

"Clarke told us to keep an eye on you," said Bellamy.

"I'm actually on my way to see Clarke," said Lexa. 

Bellamy looked like he was keeping his expression carefully blank by sheer will, and Octavia looked Lexa up and down and let out a low whistle. 

"To talk," said Lexa. "So, um, you two should head home for the night."

*

There were no guards outside Clarke's door; Lexa smoothed down her nightgown, tucked her hair behind her ear, and knocked softly. There was no answer; Lexa pushed the door slightly ajar and was about to call Clarke's name when she heard voices.

"You have your Sky Girl well guarded--" It was Pike's voice; Lexa wished fervently that she hadn't sent Bellamy and Octavia away, and she briefly considered hurrying after them.

"If you hurt her--!" Clarke spat, and Lexa drew her gun and clicked off the safety just like Anya had taught her.

Pike's laugh was a low rumble. "Without you, she'll be a sitting duck, and Ice Queen and I--" 

Lexa pushed the door open in one quick motion, gun at the ready. "Looking for me, Pike?"

Pike pivoted, dragging Clarke in front of him by her hair, the shaft of his axe across her throat. "Let me just deal with this _Fleimkepa_ and I'll get to you."

Pike moved his arm, and now the blade of his axe was pressed to Clarke's neck. Lexa fired. The bullet struck Pike's shoulder and he spun away from Clarke, who kicked him solidly in the head, and his body went limp.

"The new Commander defeats the leader of _Podakru_ in single combat," said Clarke after she'd summoned guards to throw Pike in a cage, and Lexa had found somewhere to set her gun down.

"I shot him in my nightgown."

"That works, too."

Lexa had shot a man, Clarke was already working out all the ways that this was politically expedient. Lexa shouldn't be staring at the thin red line on Clarke's throat, and wondering how Clarke would groan if Lexa put her mouth there.

She stepped close and touched her fingers to the scratch, she felt Clarke swallow. "Does this hurt?"

"I--" Clarke began, wetting her lips, and Lexa kissed her.

"I thought you weren't ready?" she said when Lexa slowly, reluctantly pulled away.

Lexa's lips quirked up. "I could have waited for a hundred years, and I wouldn't have been ready for you, Clarke."

*

" _Ai laik Leksa kom Skaikru_." Lexa stood on the steps in front of the Commander's Tower, in front of the clan leaders, the people of Polis, the Ark, and the clans. " _Ai laik Heda._ "

Clarke took a burning torch from a guard and walked over to an empty firepit; with a _whooshing_ sound the Commander's Flame was burning once again atop the tower.

The clan leaders knelt one by one, with murmurs of " _Heda_ ", and Lexa looked out over her people, her eyes as always being drawn to Clarke.


End file.
